


Icy Blue Eyes

by Ashevan



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 02:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashevan/pseuds/Ashevan
Summary: Theon's summer job seems to attract quite the interesting—and competitive—crowd.(I had the idea of modern Theon/Reek with a nametag and this was the result)





	1. Chapter 1

**The Iron Islands.**

Theon never felt too lucky to work at his family’s restaurant and he was certain his father felt just as upset by it, if not more so. Every day had been hell for him since his return from abroad. Though the faint salty smell of the sea could fill his nose with every bust on the dock or every ten-minute lunch break (twenty for his sister), the dull days blurred together. He could hear his father’s screams in the seagull’s cries and praise for his sister, Yara, in the crashing waves. He wanted something _exciting_ to happen for once! Something more than insults and disappointing paychecks.

 _This_ was not what he had in mind.

Theon’s longest shifts were on Fridays, but why wouldn’t they be? He didn’t want to go to parties or meet women or anything like that. _Obviously._ While his sister was let off around 5 PM, Theon was stuck bussing tables and cleaning dishes until 10, four hours after his father had departed. He ran the restaurant by himself in those small hours and in some ways it was liberating. No one to scream at him, no one to stop him from flirting with the sun touched women stopping by. It was almost a blessing relative to the rest of the week.

Tonight was slow, only one table occupied, though at this hour it was unusual for anyone to even be here if they weren’t drunk with six other friends minimum. Only one person sat at this table, his eyes focused on the dancing flame of the small table candle in front of him. The golden-orange light reflected off the man’s crisp white teeth, the small smirk on his face revealing them to the lonely world.

“Can I help you?” Theon inquired with a sigh. If it wasn’t for this guy, he could have locked up early, could have even gone out to a pub or a club. He had no consequence if he was rude, either; his dad wasn’t here to examine how Theon treated ‘his’ customers.

“Help me?” The man’s eyes remained fixed on the flame, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so slightly, as though the sound of those two words on his lips gave him more joy than another confessing love for him. “I suppose you can.”

Theon felt a slight chill rush through his chest once the man’s icy blue eyes focused on him. They scanned him: face, chest, face, crotch, face. The man grinned.

“With your order.” Theon bluntly clarified.

“Ah, I see. And, if you’re some waiter, where’s your pretty little nametag, mm?” His nametag. Theon had never gotten one. His father claimed it showed ‘loyalty’–or something of the sort–and of course he demonstrated nothing of the sort. His sister, on the other hand, had a name tag that glistened in the sunshine and glowed in the moonlight.

“I don’t have one. My father wouldn’t get one made for me.” The man’s face almost looked disappointed, his grin falling into a playful pout.

“Well, we’ll certainly have to change that, won’t we? Now, what do I have the honor of calling such a hard working man like yourself?” Hardworking wasn’t what Theon would describe himself as, though he could see how the man got such an impression from the abandoned restaurant.

“Theon. Greyjoy. Look, are you gonna order something or not? I don’t want to be here longer than I have to.”

“How long would that be?”

“Until you get the hell out of here so I can lock the place up,” Theon mumbled loud enough for the man to hear, though he didn’t appear offended in the slightest. The agitated attitude wasn’t his fault, Theon defended himself. He wasn’t permitted to smoke during working hours; he felt nauseous, antsy, and this customer was only keeping him from his smokes. His eyes bolted upwards to the giant yellow kraken standing proudly in the corner. It must have been seven feet, maybe taller. The man seemed to take note of Theon’s intrigue.

“Krakens. Such, marvelous creatures–in the water anyway. But, once they’re removed from their cozy homes, well. They’re just as spineless as they are boneless: ready to be sent out and eaten up by the world, piece by piece.” The man spread out the last phrase of his sentence as though it were three.

Theon’s nose crinkled as his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Oh!” The man grinned, his blue eyes growing wider, “Where are my manners?” The man stuck out his hand, skin paler than paper, smoother than it too. It was almost unsettlingly perfect.

“Ramsay. Snow.” Theon rose an eyebrow at the formal gesture; he wasn’t used to men in their early twenties shaking hands with one another, especially at this time of year in this area. He refused to return the gesture not because the greeting was peculiar, but because his grudge against Ramsay was far too great.

Yet...something about his eyes was so compelling, entrancing. A maze of ice-blue he could find himself lost in for hours upon hours upon–

“ _Theon._ ” His own name punctured his skin like sharpened icicles, goosebumps appearing on his skin like a wave washing over the sandy shores.

“What, _what_?” Theon replied, his voice cracking slightly, the irritation oozing out between his teeth. He felt his face blush in embarrassment though forcibly denied he felt that way about such a trivial conversation.  

Ramsay quietly scoffed to himself, a small grin from a wide smile forming on his face. Theon had never seen someone smile like this. Something was different about it than the smiles he had received night after night, one girl to the next. He swelled with pride each moment his pants hit the floor with a soft clink of his belt buckle. The girls always stared in awe, scanning his body but never straying from the main attraction. To a certain extent, sure, Ramsay was no different, but his smile didn’t mask the same thoughts as those he received in the bedroom.

“I _said_ if you would like to ‘get the hell out of here’ a little earlier–which I’m certain such an...appealing man like yourself would–you’re welcome to join me at Dreadfort before making your way back home.”

Theon had heard of Club Dreadfort a few times before; the club itself was far too out of the way on Theon’s journey back home so he never thought of it much. Most Fridays he burnt out after an hour or two of partying, less if he allowed himself to overdrink. Theon thought himself wise and always chose to go out on Saturday nights after he had regained enough energy staying in all day.

“You...live around Dreadfort?”

“About twenty minutes away by car.” Theon’s shoulders slowly deflated, a sigh escaping through his nose. He had always wondered about what occurred inside those walls: the people, the screaming stench of booze and drugs unknown by name but famous by taste. Theon had merely heard of the events and had always wanted to experience it for himself. But with a stranger which such captivating, hypnotic eyes and a malicious smile…was it wise?

“Ten minutes.” A short silence let the response evaporate into a faint memory.

“Sorry?” Ramsay quietly replied, his tone forming the question into a statement.

“Give me ten minutes to lock up and get my stuff together.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Club Dreadfort.**

If rumors were exaggerations of a boring truth, this put the theory to shame. Cheers and drunken laughter accumulated together, spreading throughout the building like a sickening fragrance. The flashing neon lights would have made anyone sick if they were sober enough but only helped Theon spot out the hot chicks in the room. He was ecstatic, his eyes glistening pinks and greens, mouth pressed into a ravenous grin.

“Let’s get you something strong to start off with. You’ve had quite a long day’s work after all.” Two firm pats stuck Theon’s chest before Ramsay made his way towards the crowded bar, Theon following close behind. The bar itself was lit with a golden glow as though it were a small piece of heaven in this hell-of-a-joint. He could faintly make out Ramsay’s request for a few shots and watched as the bartender swiftly followed his command.

Without hesitation, Theon picked up a glass and let the liquid fall down his throat, his curly hair thrown out of his face before landing back where it had begun. The Greyjoy grimaced at the strong aftertaste and let out a shaken sigh of relief.

“That all you can handle? Someone’s been avoiding all the _exciting_ selections!” Ramsay teased, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. Another type of tightness pulled on Theon’s chest, gnawed at his pride. A type that made him throw his head back once more as the liquor sped down his throat.

“Snow.” Theon watched as Ramsay’s eyes lit up, his head turning to face the source of a calm, soothing voice. The man held a small glass gently between his fingers, slightly melted ice cubes clinking the walls of the cup. His hair was a dark bark brown, eyes a calming blue to accompany his voice.

His chest tightening for a third reason, Theon felt the two shots coming back up, burning the walls of his throat. His colored eyes met that of the man, well-known by all: Robb Stark.

Known by most as ‘King of North’, Robb was easily one of the most popular students around, not just at North College, but maybe even the country itself. Theon would know especially as he was a grade behind Robb. He was certain the king had no clue what Theon looked like but knew too well what he had done. Theon was a troublemaker, after all, a hated student by most. It was a title he felt oddly proud of wearing.

This was different. He couldn’t wear it in front of Robb, couldn’t ruin his chance to befriend the king, let alone talk to him. Theon idolized him, after all.

“Robb Stark. A surprise to see you around this...uh-well.” Ramsay gestured behind himself into the sea of drunk adults. “You know what I mean.”

“I enjoy stopping by from time to time.” Robb flashed Ramsay a closed smile, wiping the thin layer of sweat glistening above his brow. His faded blue eyes met those of Theon, filled with a masked form of apprehension, his bags seeming heavier in the lighting.

“I’m sorry; we seem to be ignoring you.”

“Robb, this is—“ Ramsay felt a sudden force hit his ribcage, his eyes dropping in temperature the longer they flared at Theon’s pleading face. He paused for a long minute, his eyes taking in every last fear, every subtle plea for help Theon threw his way in those seconds. Ramsay watched as his head discreetly shook from side to side, side to side. It was quick.

 _Please._ The word branded on Theon’s lips. Ramsay could recognize it without hesitation, without audio, without needing to think. A large smirk grew on his face as he turned his gaze back towards Robb.

“This is...Reek. Reek, Robb Stark.”  A sigh flooded out of Theon’s nose, his dignity spared. His anxious eyes locked onto Robb’s hand, reaching out for his. Again, it was odd for Theon but there was not a second of hesitation as he completed the greeting. Robb’s hand was cold, slightly wet from the condensation on his glass, but his grip was firm and secure. Theon’s chest throbbed; it was an honor and a dream of his to talk to the king, of course, but Theon never thought the day would come. Never.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.” Robb let out a light-hearted chuckle at the title, letting his hand fall to the side.

“There’s no need to address me so formally.” He smiled, his eyes slowly moving from Ramsay to Theon. “Just a nickname that’s been thrown around, really.” Theon’s glance jumped back and forth just as Robb’s did: back at the bar once Robb’s focus was on Ramsay, and forth when he could feel the king’s royal eyes gazing upon him. He needed to calm down. He needed a drink, maybe two.

“Ramsay.”

“Yes, Reek?” It was phrased like a statement once more, a condescending one at that. Ramsay loved each vowel like it was his last night on earth to fuck them. His voice was like a whisper in a dark forest, causing Theon to hitch on a breath.

“What were those shots you ordered? I want another round.” Ramsay’s blue eyes widened ever so slightly, his smirk growing.

“Silly, Reek. You haven’t finished the first one yet.” He roped an arm around Theon, pulling him down towards Ramsay. “It’s known as The Cross for...a few reasons. The first one being the presentation which you have, so rudely failed to appreciate.” Theon took a double take back to the bar’s countertop. About twelve shot glasses placed neatly into the shape of an X, two emptied and placed back incorrectly: the two Theon had consumed. He reached for a third, almost praying the liquor would be strong enough to boost his confidence, make him as outgoing and confident as an average day. He wanted to impress Robb. He needed to.

“How do you know Reek, Ramsay?” The two exchanged a second glance, Ramsay’s grin as wide as ever, Theon’s teeth discreetly sinking into his bottom lip. They exchanged silence, intense thoughts unknown by the other.

“Reek...is my boyfriend.” Theon choked on his shot. “Aren’t you, Reek?” He felt Ramsay’s cold fingers run through his messy brown hair. Ramsay’s fingernails were well maintained, his touch soothing and gentle.

“Boyfriend?” Theon repeated the word. His mouth hung slightly ajar in shock. Out of all the relationships he could have chosen–cousin, sibling, just a friend for fuck’s sake–how had he settled on this one?

Theon’s gaze staggered to meet Robb who patiently watched the scene in silence. Sweat piled on his forehead and under his armpits. Thankfully he was wearing a black tee shirt so no one could notice the sweat stains rapidly forming on Theon’s top. He swallowed, licked his lips nervously, and nodded subtly. Once, twice. Up and down.

“Today actually marks our six month anniversary. Reek and I are _very_ happy together.” Theon drew a sharp breath as he felt a chilling sensation slide under his jeans, down his ass. His face blossomed a bold magenta, growing warmer as Ramsay traveled farther down. His hand drifted to the right, cupping the right cheek, pressing into it with his thumb.

“I’m very happy for you two.” Robb displayed a small smile, soft eyes meeting Theon’s yet again. Theon would never get tired of his gaze, his calm cadence, his pure voice. It was a stretch of hope but Theon hoped he was single.

“But Ramsay is right; you should try to finish the chaos you’ve started.” The Cross. Theon had nearly forgotten about it.

“Of course I’m gonna finish it,” Theon grinned as he traveled back to the bar counter top, “I don’t back down from a challenge and I certainly don’t back down from chaos of any sort.” Theon snatched a random glass from the X and placed it back once it had been emptied. He grabbed another.  And another.

“You just might be the only man who’s ever finished The Cross.” The statement caused Theon to become cognizant of the other two people standing behind him.

“...Only? Whad’you mean only?”

“Rumor has it that a single round of The Cross is impossible to finish.” Ramsay’s voice was toned down several notches. Theon listened intensely, grabbing onto every last syllable Ramsay spat from his lips. “Hundreds have tried, all have failed. Of course,” His voice grew louder once more, “There’s no real way to tell unless you’ve finished–”

Theon reached for his seventh, then his eighth. And by the ninth, he could see the reckless ocean surrounding him, krakens strangling him with their long, long tentacles, and the salt of the sea burned his tongue.

The world went black seconds after.


	3. Chapter 3

**???**

Without looking to see or comprehending where he was, Theon felt chained to the ocean floor. He heard a voice but couldn’t make out the words. Each breath stung his insides and with each exhale, Theon was certain he’d throw up the past day’s meals. With the little energy he had left, the Greyjoy tried to pry his eyes open, able to make out a blurry black-haired figure before him before immersing himself back into the darkness.

“It’s Robb. Can you hear me, Reek?” Mere sounds circled his ears like vultures, taunting him with one word:

_Robb._

Robb was here; Robb would save him, help him. Theon felt warm, gooey sensations coating his lips.

“Robb...please...” Thick saliva lingered in his mouth. With each plea for help, it continued to spill more and more. His breathing grew heavy and audible, his entire chest heaving. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move, to think, to be.

A warm sensation coiled around Theon’s upper arm like a serpent. Theon shuddered, flinching at the first moment of contact, melting into it for the following.

“Robb.” He spat the name out with the warm saliva hanging off his bottom lip. The flame traveled his body: his mouth, his chest, his cock.

He felt his briefs grow damp, a shaken sigh leaving his nose. He repeated the king’s name. Again.

“Open your eyes.” Theon would do as Robb instructed. He had always done what the king instructed even if it was never directly for him. Theon would follow Robb to the ends of the Earth if he commanded, staring at his dark brown curls for hours on end. Theon would not waste an opportunity to stare in awe at his idol, his king, his–

“ _Now._ ” Theon let out a whine in pain as he felt a smooth, cold hand slap his left cheek. His eyelids flew open like two rats scurrying to their hiding spots, fearful of all those out to catch them.

To kill them.

Theon’s gaze was faced with the burning blue eyes of Ramsay Snow, his teeth meeting the pure white of his name.

It was only now Theon realized he could no longer move his arms to rub his bruised cheek or move his legs to back away from the familiar face. His heart began to race and pound in his chest, just as trapped as he was. Theon struggled with the forces holding him in place. He felt so vulnerable, so weak; Theon was not a weak man. He could hold his ground, find an escape, even if he had no way to move at the moment.

“There’s no use in struggling. I’m an expert, after all.”

“An expert in what?”

Ramsay almost appeared surprised by the question. “Oh, did I forget to mention that part?”

“Mention what?”

Ramsay clucked under his breath. “Silly _me!_ ”

“Mention _what?!_ ” Theon attempted to yank himself free from his shackles once again. He was growing angry, his body shaking in its forced position. Ramsay’s mouth hung slightly ajar fixed in a smile, waiting a half moment before replying,

“Why...The Cross, of course.” Theon watched as the man walked off towards the kitchen. It was small, connected to Theon’s location as though they were two parts of the same room. He heard the breaking of the fridge seal, some clinking of glass bottles, and a slam of the door. “Let’s see…” Theon could hear the fresh crack of a plastic water bottle seal and watched as Ramsay tilted his head back, pouring the cooled refreshment down his throat. It filled him with a forgotten desire for the substance.

Ramsay let out a sigh, wiping his mouth off with his lower arm. “We already covered the first reason. Do you remember what that reason was, Reek?”

“The presentation.” _Theon_ bluntly replied. He was in no mood for Ramsay’s stupid riddles, had no idea what he was doing here, and wanted to get back to work for once. The thought shocked _Theon_ , but putting up with his father and sister was better than...this.

“Very _good_ , Reek.” Ramsay beamed at his captured rat with pride. A startling series of barks followed the man’s praise, morphing it into irritation.

“ _Down! DOWN!”_ His hiking boot kicked the hound square in the belly. The dog let out a loud whimper as she hit the line of drawers in the kitchen then retreated back to her cage at the sight of Ramsay’s pointer finger and intimidating implicit demands.

Ramsay let out an audible sigh.

“Sorry. She forgets her place sometimes, stupid bitch.” The Snow took another swig from the plastic bottle as he made his way back to his ‘guest’. He decided to occupy the single wooden chair Theon had had the pleasure of examining while Ramsay was retrieving his refreshment.

Water. His eyes drifted down to the water bottle, carefully held on top of Ramsay’s thighs. The condensation caressed the bottle, brought a chilling life to it Theon needed more than ever.

“Now. The presentation, yes, that’s the first reason. Have you figured out the next reason?”  Theon had—unfortunately—missed the question, his eyes, mouth, mind focused on the ice cold water resting only a foot away from him. He watched it soar up into the air, its refreshing contents splashing back and forth against the walls of the container. He watched it dive back down onto the earth, back to where Theon could reach it.

He felt a stabbing pain in his foot as though the water had deceived him, betrayed him. Theon screamed, his throat growing evermore sore. Tears welled up in his eyes then overflowed down his cheeks. He wished his tears were made of pure water like the bottle taunting him. He wished his suffering would show him mercy.

“WHAT THE _FUCK_ IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself, Reek.” His calm response winded Theon, leaving him unable to respond to Ramsay’s statement. His mouth hung open, chest heaving as he dropped his head down in defeat and pain.

“I’ll ask again: Do you know the second reason why it’s known as The Cross?” Theon gripped onto every word as though it was the last he’d ever hear. For all he knew, it just may be so.

“Because...i-it’s some religious thing?”

“No, Reek.” Theon screamed, his left leg shaking as his foot cried a red waterfall onto his toes. He felt the Snow slowly twisting the knife in his foot, loving every scream Theon phonated. Ramsay’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the blood like a child on Christmas Day just waiting to get his hands on his next present.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re not even trying.”

“THE PUNISHMENT!” Theon screamed, his voice wavering, “IT’S THE PUNISHMENT!”

 

The punishment. It wasn’t a bad guess. It wasn’t a good one either. Though, perhaps Ramsay could show his guest some hospitality before _really_ getting to business.

A loud gasp escaped Reek’s mouth as Ramsay swiftly removed the blade from Reek’s foot. The deep red glistened in the dim light as it slowly glided down the knife. It always brought pleasure to Ramsay, watching the marvelous substance flow free to the outside world. He was a liberator, a savior.

“...Yes. Very good, Reek.” He replied quietly, allowing each moment of Reek’s relief to rush from his lips down towards the floorboards. Ramsay’s gaze was captured by the fear trapped behind his guest’s ocean eyes. It was so raw, so pure and perfect; from what he’d seen, Reek was too bold to hold back his screams so when something was amiss, Ramsay would know. He felt his cheeks grow warm as his icy hand caressed Reek’s quivering jaw, gripping Reek’s chin in his hand.

What a gentlemen Reek was: his eyes never dared part from Ramsay’s entity. Ramsay could feel Reek hyperventilating, his mind focused only on Ramsay Snow.

“Ah, where _are_ my manners? I always seem to forget myself around you, Reek.” Ramsay gently bit his lower lip, the corners of his mouth breaking into a devious grin.

Ramsay made his way back to his opened water bottle, the crunch of the plastic filling the small space as Ramsay firmly grasped it in his hand before returning to his guest.

“I’m sure you must be...rather parched, especially from last night. A long night out can _seriously_ dehydrate a man.” Ramsay gave Reek a firm pat on the shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle as Reek flinched, petrified of the touch. His breathing grew so timid over these past few minutes; it was truly adorable, though Ramsay wouldn’t admit it—not now, at least. He focused on Reek’s eyes, the way his pupils grew at the hope of tasting crisp, clean water once more, a holy promise from the savior himself.

It was unfortunate the savior was a very cruel man.

“Do you want some water, Reek?” Reek was unresponsive to his savior’s inquiry, his head merely rising up as he took in a long, shaken breath. Ramsay would give it to him, though perhaps he knew that already. He knew how long a man could last without clean water or food without making them _completely_ sick and he knew how they’d last on sweat and tears as a substitute.

Ramsay scoffed to himself as he was met with silence, his glance falling down to the holes in his stained ripped jeans. Patches of rust red decorated the front, primarily concentrated from the knees down. The jeans themselves were somewhat baggy and hung off Ramsay’s ass though he was more than aware of it.

“No?” Ramsay raised his head to meet Reek’s reddened face once more, his bangs falling neatly across his forehead. “That’s quite unfortunate. I was going to offer you the remainder of mine, but...since you don’t seem to want it...” He watched as Reek’s beady eyes followed the path of the water bottle, watching as it slowly tilted towards the ground, watching as the water began to pour out in front of him, pooling at his feet. Reek’s breath hitched at the murmuring of water falling mere inches out of reach. Ramsay made sure to empty the bottle quickly enough that he wouldn’t bore his valued guest, but slowly enough that it all sunk in: Reek was so close to his crisp freedom, one that resonated in his eyes. Ramsay wanted to assure Reek he would never feel that freedom ever again.

No one ever did after they’d had a taste of The Cross.


	4. Chapter 4

The Iron Islands.

A few months had passed by since Theon’s first encounter with Ramsay and it certainly hadn’t been the last: every weekend—without fail—Ramsay had shown his face at the Iron Islands and taken Theon to his home. Every Monday morning, Theon would return to work exhausted, everything but Theon’s face beaten and bruised. As the weeks progressed, Theon resorted to long sleeved shirts as a security blanket during  _ Theon’s _ working hours. The heat was unbearable but  _ Theon _ would not be questioned about the scars and cuts scattered about  _ Theon’s _ arms. They ached with each movement, a constant reminder of what  _ he _ had done to Theon. Theon.  _ Theon. _

Theon. He was growing fearful of his own name. Each time his father or sister yelled for him across the bustling restaurant, Theon caved in on himself, bowing his head in shame that he had disobeyed or taken a wrong step.

He could recall the silence, the sound of each heartbeat in his chest, the words echoing in his eardrums. 

 

_ “My name is  _ Theon. Greyjoy. _ ” Theon shouted, the chords in his neck growing tight. His voice cracked as the words squeaked out of his mouth but he didn’t care. He was sick of ‘Reek’, sick of this imprisonment, sick of Ramsay’s stupid, sly face endlessly staring back at him. He was not Reek, and he was certainly not Ramsay’s.  _

_ Ramsay’s grin sobered into a light, closed-mouth smile, his bright white teeth hiding in the darkness, closed off to the world. His eyes never lost their energy, their intensity. They never would. Theon wouldn’t be surprised if they merely leeched off his own sanity, his own life, until he was nothing more than a mindless zombie staring back at his creator. _

_ The whip cracked against Theon’s bare stomach, the sound echoing through the tight room. A bright red mark quickly across Theon’s torso. He let out a wail of dismay, his dirty brown hair hanging down in his face, covered in sweat and salted tears. Theon wondered how his tears hadn’t run dry; he hadn’t had any water for two days now. _

_ “That’s not what you told Robb, is it? If I remember correctly, you  _ begged _ me to keep your ‘real name’ a secret.” Another crack of the whip. Reek cried, pleaded for freedom. He pulled against his restraints, failing miserably as he attempted to free himself.  _

_ “What is your name?” _

 

“Reek?” 

 

_ “Reek!”  _

 

Theon almost pissed himself at the sound of that name, that wretched name. His entire body stiffened, the chill unzipping down his back, leaving him vulnerable and meek. Meek Reek.

 

_ Ramsay placed a firm hand on Reek’s shoulder, the room glancing his way on that Friday night. It could never phase Ramsay. He was fond of the attention, after all, and knew his Reek was too.  _

_ Reek wasn’t very talkative in public anymore, only listened to what he had to say, responding with a cowardly nod or two.  _

_ “I have something to give to you, Reek.” Ramsay’s calm smile widened as the terror ignited in his Reek’s eyes. He would be so pleased, so grateful once the surprise was revealed. “Come with me.” Ramsay closed his grip around Reek’s masked arm, squeezing a bit tighter to get his Reek to wince at the pain. Ramsay grinned when he did so. _

_ He led Reek out to the deck, the sun deserting them, leaving them in darkness, but not quite. There was just enough light for Reek to see his glistening gold name tag, his name engraved into the smooth surface.  _

_ “Take it,” Ramsay commanded, a bit irritated at Reek’s inexistent response. Reek obeyed almost immediately, bowing his head in shame as he gently grabbed the tag.  _

_ Reek’s hands shook violently as he attempted to label himself with his name, Ramsay’s name for him. It was as though the name was a label of possession he would wear proudly day in and day out. _

_ “Let me help you, Reek.” He murmured. Ramsay’s hands were controlled, the placement of the label swift and effortless. He gave Reek a firm pat on the chest. “There. Now you’ll never forget what you are and who you belong to.” _

_ “Thank you, M’lord.” Reek sputtered out to the damp dock below. His body was stiff, knees locked, hands curled into weak fists.  _

_ “Reek.” _

_ “Yes, M’lord?” Reek raised his head slowly to meet Ramsay’s dominating gaze. Ramsay loved watching Reek’s eyes, darting back and forth like a lost doe.  _

_ “Who do you belong to?” _

 

“Robb.” The name escaped his lips like a sudden breeze on a still summer day. Theon was so desperate to take it back, but the sensation of the name filling his mouth let his shoulders fall farther than they’d had in weeks. “I wasn’t—” Reek took an unsettled glance around the room, his head turning like that of a sprinkler. “...expecting to see you here.” 

Robb’s skin was half a shade darker than the first time they had met—though, Theon couldn’t truly tell under the strobing lights and...well, he wasn’t going to think about that. 

Robb’s eyes reflected the dim candle lights placed throughout the restaurant, a comforting warmth blossoming in Theon’s chest, his cheeks and ears, too. 

 

_ He was hard. His heart raced like that of a fragile girl trying to escape her nightmares, trying to escape  _ him. _ Ramsay rather enjoyed when they were hard to get, though it got old quickly. Ramsay didn’t like it when things grew old. _

_ But Reek. Reek never grew old; it surprised him, but more importantly, it pleased him. It pleased him to feel Reek against him, trembling like a child.  _

_ The soothing sounds hissed out from Ramsay’s lips startled Reek; his head fell down, meek mumbles left his mouth as though running it for his life. Ramsay wouldn’t take it from him. He needed Reek, after all.  _

_ “Reek.” _

_ “Yes, Ramsay.” The reply was almost immediate. Ramsay clucked his tongue, discreetly shaking his head from one side to the other. He placed a hand atop Reek’s head, running his fingers through the Greyjoy’s unkempt mane.  _

_ “Is that what you should call me?” His voice—like his touch—was gentle, coated in a thin layer of ice. A beautiful sight, but a wrong step could cause you to slip onto the freezing ground.  _

“ _ N-no...M’lord; I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any—” Reek was cut short by another hiss from Ramsay, his spider-like hands traversing down to Reek’s neck. Ramsay grinned at the sight of Reek’s shoulders raising, the sound of his surprise, his concern. He certainly didn’t want to bore his guest. _

_ “I forgive you, Reek.” Ramsay thumbed the back of Reek’s head, landing a tender kiss on his guest’s neck, exposed to him so perfectly as were the scars and bruises. Blues, greens, yellows, reds. The human body could turn such a variety of colors; he wanted Reek to see how beautiful he could be. He wanted Reek to know someone—someone like himself—cared so deeply for him to offer him that sight, that reality.   _

_ “We all make mistakes,” Ramsay mumbled, his lips traveling ever closer to Reek’s ear, “Though it’s best not to make too many. Do you know what happens when you make too many mistakes, Reek?” _

_ “No, M’lord.” _

 

“Your sister mentioned you work alongside her; I thought I’d drop by for a visit.” Yara? How did he know Yara? Theon felt a fury of gratitude building up inside him; he didn’t know if he should be grateful to Yara for giving him another opportunity to see Robb, or furious for indulging in his personal life.

“Want to show me around?” A small smirk found itself on Robb’s lips, his curled hair matching his fitted, midnight black tee shirt: simple, perfect.

“...Uh-yeah. Why not?” Theon nodded. His eyes never left Robb during the encounter, entranced by his perfection as always. Though he was unaware, his mouth hung slightly ajar, a sight that managed to get a small chuckle out of Robb. A few moments of silence loomed over the two before Theon came to his senses.

“Right, so uh,” he gestured to the entirety of the dining area, “That’s where...you eat n’ stuff. Don’t know what there is to tell about that, but outside.” The seated customers stared as the two traversed through the restaurant without a second thought, the bustling and clanking of silverware falling soft for a few moments more than usual on a Friday night. It felt  _ good _ , Theon thought, almost like respect. 

 

_ “Do you want me to tell you?” _

_ “...No, M’lord.” _

 

“This is where you take breaks?” The spot was out of sight, unfortunately for all those trying to spy on Theon at any time of day, in search of their waiter. A few of his possessions were scattered about: a wooden wolf figurine, notebooks of all sorts, a few college banners, and several—rather large and sloppy—drawings of krakens taped to the wall. 

This was embarrassing. 

“I didn’t mean for it to be such a mess; I just wasn’t expecting to bring anyone out here.”

Robb took a few steps into Theon’s man cave. 

“Not bad. North graduate?” He inquired, casually gesturing to one of the few banners. 

“Well—“

“I’m only kidding, Theon. I know you were a class behind me.” He laughed softly, giving Theon a firm pat on the shoulder.

Theon’s mind went absolutely blank. A still ocean free of life, of time passing. It was forever lasting and it was nothing. 

“Wh-you  _ knew _ ?” Theon felt his cheeks burning, heart racing as the words entered the open world, confirming this idea as a reality. 

“Theon—”

“A-and you didn’t bother to...to  _ say _ anything at any point?!” Theon let out a long sigh, falling onto his wooden box bench. A loud  _ thump _ sounded at the impact of Theon’s head against one of his North banners on the wall. 

Robb took a deep breath before approaching Theon, sitting beside him on the box bench. Theon tensed once their legs made contact, debating endlessly if he should move closer or farther away. 

It was strange. From the moment Theon knew of Robb, he had wanted him. He wanted to make an everlasting impression, one that would never die or lose its flame even after they did. This wasn’t what he had had in mind years ago: lying and tantrums. 

“I’m sorry _. _ ” The words left Theon’s lips before he could process he had spoken them. He let them go, let them float away across the ocean until they would never be seen again. Theon never wanted to see them again. He was sure Robb felt the same about him. 

Theon’s posture sank as he focused on his demolished fingernails, examining each cuticle and each finger individually to escape the situation.

 

_ He placed a hand on Reek’s thigh. It was warm, bruised. It had seen the world but not enough to truly know what life was. His bright eyes burned into Reek’s face as though the sun was focused on him alone. He was all that mattered, after all.  _

_ Reek visibly tensed at the contact on his leg, a quiet—but audible—gasp echoing in his break space. He bit his bottom lip, squeezed his eyes shut until he was certain they’d become stuck together. _

 

Theon sighed, “I just...I really like you and I thought you might like me better if I pretended to be someone else.” He wished for comfort, pleaded for someone to protect him. At this rate, Theon would lose every safe space he owned—or thought he could own. It was disgraceful how soft, how weak he had become.

Weak Reek. 

 

_ “Are you refusing my advice, Reek?” Ramsay raised an eyebrow as his eyes traced the various assortment of bruises and beatings along his Reek’s back, right down to his ass. It was tense, cheeks tightened in preparation of another punishment.  _

_ This, however, was no punishment. This was another gift. Just like each and every gift Ramsay had bestowed on Reek’s flesh. He should be thanking Ramsay, pleading for more advice, more words of wisdom.  _

_ “No, M’lord.” _

_ “Then why did you say no?” Ramsay traced his fingers up Reek’s leg to his ass, gripping the blue bruise firmly.  _

_ “The punishment would hurt Reek more, M’lord.”  _

_ Ramsay chuckled at the phrase, both the meaning behind it and the placement of Reek’s name. He quite enjoyed hearing Reek speak his own name, the name Ramsay had given him, branded onto him. _

_ “Don’t act stupid, Reek. We both know fear is what keeps people obedient.”  _

_ “Yes, M’lord.” _

_ “Now get down. All fours, Reek, like the dog you are.” _

 

Theon’s gaze drifted down to Robb’s hand on his thigh, mesmerized by the back and forth motion of his thumb.

 

_ It was too fast. He was too fast. Reek forced himself quiet as not to squeak out a sob. He could feel Ramsay everywhere, inside and out. Whoever thought rocking back and forth was a soothing motion had never met Ramsay Snow.  _

_ Reek prayed they never would.  _

 

Robb let a soft exhale escape his nose, a half smile momentarily displayed on his lips. His hand moved from Theon’s thigh to his hair, each finger picking its own caramel strand to become tangled in. “I like you the way you are.” 

Theon bit his—now extremely sensitive—bottom lip, a shaken sigh leaving him. 

Robb continued, “I always have, okay?” His eyes failed to connect with Theon’s gaze, far away and far out at sea. Theon felt a warm sensation press against his cheek and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as he arose from the box bench.

“I’ll be around next Friday; I’ll stop by on my drive home,” Robb spoke, the sound of his melodic voice mixing with the  _ clunk _ of shoes on wooden planks.

“Alright, yeah. I’ll see you then!” Theon called back. His back fell against the wall the moment Robb was out of sight.

 

_ “Listen to me carefully. Are you listening to me, Reek?” _

 

“No…” Theon traced over the events that had unfolded before him: Robb Stark. Robb Stark—his only idol at North, only love at North—might love him back. “...No.” Theon whispered once more, unable to fathom the situation.

 

_ “There are many mistakes that cannot be forgiven.” _

 

Theon sprung up from his seat. His boots clunked against the planks of the dock, his heart rate accelerating faster than it ever had before. 

“Robb!” He called out to the man, moments away from re-entering the cool, air-conditioned restaurant. “Robb, wait!” 

 

_ “You might think you can cover it up, pretend no one knows about your little secret,” _

 

Robb’s blue eyes overflowed with confusion, maybe even concern that he had done something wrong. The transparent door fell closed behind him, his body floating towards Theon, almost like a ghost. 

 

_ “But they’ll know.” _

 

He practically lunged himself at Robb, grasping onto his neck like a hairclip and pulling the graduate towards himself. 

 

_ “I’ll know, too.” _

 

Robb was beautiful, his lips like ecstasy. Theon’s hands traversed Robb’s back, pulled on his midnight top, slipped underneath his briefs. He wanted everything at once, wanted to jump into the sea and let them land wherever the waves and fate took them. 

“I love you, Robb.” Theon gasped between two kisses. He felt Robb’s hands surrounding him, touching him in the same places but different ways. Better ways. Perfect ways. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

Robb planted a firm kiss on Theon’s lips, brushing his messy bangs away from his eyes. 

“I know you have.” Robb gently held Theon’s chin in his hand, taking in his curious, rebellious eyes. “I love you too, Theon.”

 

_ “And I promise you, you’ll be sorry for what you’ve done.” _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Quick warning that there are a bit of gore/death related descriptions in this chapter)

Friday at 19:31 pm:

_Robb: I may be a bit late, lots of traffic._

_Theon: dont worry about it_

_Robb: I’m excited to see you again, Babe._

_Robb: I love you. <3 _

_Theon: love u 2_ _< 3_

Theon locked his phone, shoving it into the back left pocket of his jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, replaying the events of last week over in his mind again and again. It all seemed divine, pure perfection on a Friday afternoon. There was something that—rather unfortunately—nagged at his mind, screaming louder than anything Robb had said over the phone:

Ramsay hadn’t taken Theon home last week.

The idea lingered with him every waking minute of each day. He caught himself thinking of where Ramsay had gone, why he hadn’t come to the restaurant, what he was thinking. At this rate, Theon wished Ramsay _had_ taken him, just for the sake of his sanity—well, the little he had left.

And that was just it: Theon wasn’t focused on his freedom, on his potential date with Robb tonight, or the parties he could attend once again. Sleepless nights grew visible under his eyes, an ever growing shadow over his pale, damaged skin. Perhaps Ramsay would show his face once again to bring Theon back into his comfortably uncomfortable routine.

He did.

“Sorry about last week. It was rather rude of me to duck out last minute but...I was working _furiously_ on a new gift for you, one I think you’ll be _very_ fond of.” He grinned his usually shark-like grin, each tooth equally hypnotizing yet equally deadly. Theon thought it unfortunate he could attest to that.

Today, however, something about his eyes seemed off, almost traumatizing. His dilated pupils swallowed his icy eyes, ravenous for more. The longer he stared, Theon noticed Ramsay wasn’t blinking, the muscles in his face tense, on-edge. Was he running from something? From someone?

What had he done?

Ramsay stood up abruptly , the legs of his chair screaming as they dragged across the floorboards. A hand placed itself on Theon’s shoulder as it had so many times before. It felt almost like a leash, one he could easily break; Theon knew what would happen if he even _attempted_ an escape and it made him obedient. Yara had pointed out the peculiar behavior several times, how well-behaved he had become.

“Would you like to see your gift, Reek?” Ramsay’s grin had sobered into a soft, sincere smile, his eyes more relaxed—almost confident—than they may have ever been. “Come on, then.” Ramsay practically pulled Theon out of the restaurant before he could build up the courage to respond. His heart sank the closer they marched toward the door: where had Robb gone? He hadn’t specified a time, sure, but Theon prayed it would be before Ramsay made it here first.

Reek sighed.

The car ride was uncomfortable and quiet. Reek snuck a quick glance at his phone here and there, holding onto his final sliver of hope—that Robb would text him, call him, tell him _something._

Anything really.  He didn’t dare text Robb himself; Reek knew he would never get away with it.  Cognizant of only his phone and his life outside this air conditioned box, he did not wonder why Ramsay occasionally looked down at his legs, nor why he only drove with one hand on the steering wheel. He did not ask himself if Ramsay tended to text while driving and if he should politely ask his master to stop.

“Reek.”

The sudden summoning startled Reek immensely, causing him to fly backwards, slamming into his car seat.

“Yes, M’lord.” Reek’s hands instantaneously coated themselves in sweat.

“I’m going to park at this rest stop. While I am inside, you are to stay buckled in your seat.” The car pulled to a slow stop into the 16th parking spot.  “Do you understand me?” Ramsay’s gaze remained out on the bustling cars and endless roads as he spoke.

“Yes, M’lord. I promise I’ll stay put, M’lord.” Reek began to fiddle with his phone, hyper aware of the golden opportunity bestowed upon him.

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed, his gaze turning towards Reek. His hand firmly clutched Reek’s lower jaw, fingers pressing into his bottom set of teeth. Reek let out a shaken breath through his nose and swallowed. For a split second, Ramsay focused on the brief movement of his Adam’s apple before connecting with Reek once more. Reek swore he saw the corner of Ramsay’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“You know what happens when you lie to me.” His hand dropped, a throbbing relief flooding throughout Reek’s face. His anxious eyes remained glued to Ramsay from the moment he slammed the car door to the moment he set foot in the rest stop.

The second after, Theon leaped for his phone, unlocking it as quickly as possible and clicking on his messages with Robb.

 

Friday at 20:46 pm:

_Robb: Hey, where are you?_

_Robb: Is everything okay?_

_Robb: Theon, did I do something wrong?_

_Robb: Please answer._

_Theon: NO no no ur fine_

_Theon: really ur fine_

_Robb: OK, good. I’m relieved to hear that._

_Robb: But, where are you? Did something happen?_

 

Theon stared at the latest message, the light of his phone beginning to strain his eyes. Perhaps that, too, was the reason his eyes began to tear up. Perhaps it was the opportunity of freedom presented before him.

He couldn’t—

_Theon: every weekend ramsay takes me to his house and tortures me_

_Theon: he doesn’t feed me i dont have water please robb_

_Theon: please hes going to hurt me_

_Theon: i can feel him_

_Theon: i can feel him everywhere_

_Theon: i cant escape please help me_

 

Theon’s body shook uncontrollably as he sent one message after the next. Tears he had held in for weeks flowed down his face like a violent storm, his quiet sobs the rumbling thunder. He constantly glanced up into the mirror, pleading Ramsay wouldn’t be present in its reflection.

_Robb: What the fuck?!_

_Robb: How long has this been going on?_

_Robb: Actually, don’t answer that. Where’s his house? I’ll come over to get you._

_Theon: i dont want him to hurt you_

_Robb: Theon._

_Robb: Where is his house?_

 

Theon frantically typed in Ramsay’s address, pressing the send button on his tear-coated screen. He watched his thumbs twitch uncontrollably, glancing up at the mirror a final time.

 

_Theon: please hurry_

 

Theon quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket, insuring first that the ringer had been turned off. He couldn’t risk Ramsay becoming suspicious. Not a moment later did Ramsay open the car door and slip himself inside. The entire car shook as he pulled the door shut.

Ramsay sighed, “I wasn’t gone too long now, was I, Reek?” Reek bent his head down in shame, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. He paused for a moment before responding, ensuring his answer would please Ramsay.

“Almost.”

“Almost?” Ramsay seemed caught off guard by Reek’s response, his voice filled with more confusion than Reek had heard before. Reek felt the exhale from Ramsay’s nasty chuckle linger on his right cheek, gently brushing down to his neck. “You didn’t miss me?” His tone had abruptly gone cold, sending a chill through Reek’s body. Reek visibly shivered.

“I did, M’lord. I think about you every day, M’lord.” The latter wasn’t a lie. Ramsay started car and the world began to move backwards, almost in slow motion.

“Good.” With a shift of the stick, Ramsay pulled the car out of the parking lot and back onto the long, ever-dreaded, and far too familiar road to Ramsay’s house.

 

The outside always looked the same: far too welcoming for someone so...Reek shivered, sinking further into himself. His grip tightened around his black long sleeved tee, stretching out the material. He wondered when Robb would arrive, if he would arrive. Reek shouldn’t have trusted Robb but Theon did. From what Theon had observed over the past few years, Robb was honest, loyal. He was sure to come soon enough.

“Are you ready for your gift, Reek?” Reek nodded silently, his bangs shifting side to side, revealing his true response. He silently asked that they wait to be honest. A certain end to this hell was coming, one with hair like midnight clouds and eyes like a cool, babbling brook.

Ramsay pointed a finger at Reek, too close for comfort. “Shut your eyes, and no peeking.” Reek obeyed Ramsay’s instructions, squeezing his eyes as tight as possible. If his eyes had the chance to flutter open by accident—to let the logic of distrust take over—they wouldn’t.

Ramsay’s hands wrapped around Reek’s shoulders, finger by finger. Reek could clearly see their past encounters in the lonely darkness behind his eyelids. He remembered every time Ramsay had touched his two shoulders. He remembered the pain, the terror overcoming him until he was nothing but a frightened lamb, a kraken washed up on dry land.

Ramsay began slowly guiding Reek towards the house, cognizant of his lack of sight. He informed Reek of when to step, when to stop, and when to continue forward.

The jingling keys and eerie screeching of Ramsay’s front door made Reek’s heart race faster and faster as he stood still as a statue. He felt the warm rush of Ramsay’s home wash over his body once more. He felt contaminated, ruined.

The house smelled different. The observation set off alarms in Reek’s mind, his body tensing immensely. He couldn’t breathe. Where had the air gone? Had the world suddenly run dry of oxygen?

It smelled different.

“I’m going to count to three. You can open your eyes _after_ I get to three.” Ramsay’s tone was filled with excitement once more. At that moment, Reek knew he wasn’t ready. He would never be ready.

_Drip._

“Yes, M’lord.” Reek had the sudden urge to vomit.

“One.” Where was Robb? Reek—Theon...he needed Robb. He needed a knight in shining armor or whatever clothes they had on. He just needed someone. He couldn’t take this wretched place anymore. He couldn’t take this nauseating stench. He couldn’t take Ramsay anymore.

“Two.” Theon prayed to every god he knew of: the old, the seven, the drowned, anyone. He needed _anyone_.

He needed Robb.

“Three.” Reek swallowed as the dreaded number left Ramsay’s lush lips. He pulled his eyelids apart, eyes resting on the clean, familiar living room.

Nothing appeared out of place. The lack of climax felt almost too comfortable, actually. Reek wished he hadn’t inquired as to why it felt so calm, so safe.

“M’lord.”

“Yes, Reek?”

“...What is the gift?” A wave of sweat crashed over Reek. His knees locked as he clenched his clammy fists, awaiting the inevitable strike for talking back.

_Drip._

“I got you a new phone.” Reek’s jaw hung slightly ajar at Ramsay’s peculiar response. Every last breath simultaneously fled from his body, leaving him relieved, yet evermore fearful of what this new phone entailed. “Well, I suppose that’s a rather misleading way of phrasing it. Your...friend was very willing to give it to me this afternoon.”

“F-friend?” Reek stuttered, almost choking on his own words. His eyes glued themselves to Ramsay’s hand and how it slithered from his side to his pocket, extracting the device.

Ramsay’s face was sober, intense, his expression filled with wrath.

Reek was too focused on the phone to notice.

“...Yes. The one you invited over.” The world spun against its axis; Reek’s vision went blurry until he could see the ends of the universe and nothing at all.

_Drip._

Reek swallowed.

“I’m not saying you can’t invite guests over.” Ramsay was fixated now on the phone screen, his thumbs quickly dancing across its surface as he spoke. His eyebrows held all the expression his captivated eyes were too distracted to portray. “This _is_ your home, after all.” Ramsay clicked the phone off, tossing it onto the floor before his guest.

Reek’s phone vibrated. Twice. “But it’s mine, too.” Ramsay continued, shooting a soft smile at Reek before calmly strolling off into the kitchen.

Reek immediately scrambled for his phone, his hands trembling, barely able to securely clutch the device. It took him a few moments to breathe, to steady his hands so he could read the message brightly burning into his eyes.

 

Friday at 22:07 pm:

_Robb: I’m here._

_Robb: Look up._

 

Reek wished he hadn’t wondered about the smell.

His head slowly craned up towards the ceiling, his entire body losing feeling once he saw the horrendous sight—the real gift Ramsay had worked so tirelessly on.

Robb hung from a long, thick banner-like material, one covered with patches of a pale green and beige but dyed a deep, fresh red. Reek recognized the first two as the colors of their college, of North.

Robb’s limp body slowly swung: left, then right, then left. The motion was enough for the fan—the one his banner had been tied around—to let out frequent, quiet creeks. Streaks of blood ran down his arms, stained his jeans, and hit the floorboards.

_Drip. Drip._

Reek dropped to his knees, his kneecaps close to bathing in Robb’s lukewarm blood. His head remained craned back, mouth ajar and eyes stapled open by the horrific sight.

Robb’s eyes were still open. Wide open. Reek was almost certain they would never close again. The blank stare of his lost lover, forever fixated in the distance, onto the life they were supposed to have. Together.

Reek’s jaw tightened, burning hot tears rushing down his cheeks. Every last muscle in his body wanted to spring up, grab the nearest knife, and slit Ramsay’s throat, stab him to death, _SOMETHING!_

Reek sobbed silently, slowly rising from his fallen position. The voices in his head ordered him to move forward, so he did. They needed him to take another step. He did. His feet trembled ferociously, his balance coming in small, untamed waves, but he managed to approach Ramsay—back turned—in pure, deafening silence.

Ramsay was humming a soft melody to himself, a hand clutching a bright red apple; the other around a glistening silver knife, circling the apple and removing its skin. The apple’s shiny cover lay in a disorganized pile on the countertop.

Reek caught a glimpse of another blade, set out on the counter beside him. He took it. He took another step. Two more.

And there he stood: just a few inches behind Ramsay, knife clutched in his clammy, shaking hand. Reek merely needed to lift it, dig it into Ramsay’s back, watch him scream out in agony as he was stabbed again and again and again. Reek would watch Ramsay bleed out before him, his warm, sticky blood coating the soles of his shoes.

Reek raised the knife.

“What do you think you’re doing—” The knife rushed towards Ramsay’s body before he had the chance to finish his sentence.

He never got to.


	6. Chapter 6

Reek screamed in agony, feeling the bones in his wrist cracking, bit by bit. He begged, pleaded, cried for mercy, for forgiveness. It went on for two minutes before Ramsay broke his wrist, the back of Reek’s hand pressed against the top of his lower arm. Reek wondered if his screams would deafen Ramsay. He wondered if he, too, would become deaf, mute, deceased. 

“Get on your knees.” Reek could barely hear the words through his cries, could barely make out his host through the abundance of sorrow pouring down his face. He fell down onto his knees without hesitation. 

“I promised you this, didn’t I? I promised that you would be sorry. But you didn’t care to listen, did you, Reek?” Ramsay clucked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

Reek’s Adam’s apple protruded from his neck, head pressed against his upper back. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t find even a split moment of escape from Ramsay’s familiar, evermore traumatizing glare. 

His icy blue eyes: The last thing Reek remembered before his senses, his sanity, his self, all succumbed to Ramsay and only Ramsay.

His icy blue eyes: The last thing Reek remembered before the world was devoured by total darkness. 

His icy blue eyes: The ones that kept their promise.


End file.
